“Can she hear us?” I glance at the back of Lori’s head and return to him.
“No.” He bites the inside of my thigh. “We have ten minutes before she turns off the music.”
Given the shortness of his breaths and the sharpening intensity in his expression, we’ll only need a fraction of that time.
He presses his wet finger against my rectum. “Answer my question.”
“Yes.” My jaw flexes. “He fucked me there.” A lot.
His nostrils flare, and his finger sinks past the tight clamp of muscle, slowly at first, then fuck! He penetrates me with ruthless thrusts. His mouth lowers to my pussy, and all I can do is hold on as he sucks and laves and rips moans from my throat.
My eyes roll back in my head, and my chest drops to the railing as my entire body dissolves into trembling bliss.
The finger in my ass curls at the perfect angle, applying exquisite pressure. The orgasm sneaks up and slams into me instantly, shockingly, violently.
I’m still coming as he surges to his feet, fumbles with his zipper, and pulls me back against his chest.
“Eyes on the horizon,” he breathes at my ear.
I slump against him and stare forward. When his hand collars my throat and clenches, I shiver all over.
His dominance pushes all my buttons and sweeps the ground from beneath my feet. Every action he takes demonstrates exactly how much effort and energy he’s willing to invest in me.
It’s a trait I greatly appreciate after all the unassertive guys I’ve been with. How do you want me to fuck you? I don’t know. How about you just take control without asking? Okay, maybe I’ll just lie here and do nothing while you suck my dick.
With Trace, everything is on his terms, premeditated and carefully designed. The headphones on the pilot gives us privacy. The teasing on the way here ensured I’d be primed for multiple orgasms within the ten-minute time frame.
He’s overbearingly controlling, but it makes me feel safe, protected. I love that he’s such a prominent man—physically powerful and socially influential. No one would ever fuck with me. That’s why I crave the power restraining my airway, controlling my movements, and pressing, hard and hot, against my pussy.
I’m sloppy wet, so when he drives his hips, his cock slides right in. But it’s tight, and the stretch is incredible. With a deep groan, he buries himself to the hilt, strangling a gasp in my throat.
Then he moves—savage, vigorous thrusts that don’t slow or relent. With my frantic pulse in his palm, he hisses past his teeth and grips my waist, his hips hammering and grinding with desperate urgency.
My body’s his vessel, his flesh to pound, and he doesn’t hold back, stroking me up and down on his cock and jacking himself off.
I fucking love it, need it. “More.”
“I’ll never get enough of you.” His hand flexes against my throat, his furious grunts panting at my ear. “Fucking love you.”
“Yes, yes, yes…” I moan, reaching behind me to touch him, to hold him closer.
A growl erupts from his chest, and he pulls out, spinning and lifting me before slamming me down on his dick.
My legs straddle his hips. My arms encircle his neck, and I ride him, kiss him, and chase him into orgasm.
We come together, gazes locked, bodies writhing, thrusting, and joined as one.
“I love you, too.” I rest my face against his, our noses sliding together, and breaths ragged.
After we regain our senses and straighten our clothes, he stands behind me, caging me against the railing in the safety of his arms. I spend the rest of the ride watching the sunset while he nuzzles and kisses my neck, whispering soft words and hungry promises.
I didn’t understand the depth of his sexual appetite until he unleashed it. His wandering hands and fevered kisses don’t leave my body, not in the balloon, not in the car on the way home, and not when he leads me into my house and locks the door.
He strips us both of our clothes in the dance studio, and only then does he release me to set a folding chair in the center of the room.
“Sit.” He doesn’t wait for me to obey and strides over to the sound system, mouth-wateringly nude. “Your taste in music is growing on me.”
“You’re a Beyoncé fan?” I lower into the chair, biting down on my smile.
I’ve learned over the past few weeks that Stuffy Suit Savoy listens to rap music, all of things.
“I went to that concert for you.” He messes with the stereo, and the intro to Close by Nick Jonas & Tove Lo hums through the room.
Prowling back to me, he grips his hardening cock and begins to stroke. The song shivers with sex and seduction, but nothing compares to the predatory look in those blue eyes.